


Class of '92

by fightthegiants



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic!Larry, M/M, The infamous Hanson fancy dress thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightthegiants/pseuds/fightthegiants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis never really liked Hanson anyway and Ben Winston drags them out of bed for a film premiere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Class of '92

**Author's Note:**

> This started life as a tinhatting session with my friend at work and ended up becoming this. Domestic!Larry is very important to me.  
> I don't own anyone or anything. This is all fiction. I don't profit. Don't show this to them or anyone associated with them blah blah thanks :))))

It’s official. Harry’s mouth is a desert. The Sahara is alive and well and has made its home on his tongue. He prizes one crusty eye open and the second the hazy winter sun hits his retina, he instantly regrets the seventh Goldshlager he’d insisted on downing the night before. If Harry is honest with himself, it probably wasn’t the seventh Goldshlager that did it. It was probably the four sambuca’s, several vodka’s, three gin and cranberry’s and the overly strong cocktail that someone had thrust into his hand. Harry’s head hurt.

He groaned and rolled to his right, his nose instantly finding wisps of soft, brown, feathery hair at the nape of a golden neck. Harry’s dry lips melted into a soft smile at the familiar smell of the skin beneath him.

"Get your filthy, brewery mouth away from me, Styles." came a gravelly voice from somewhere under the duvet.

"But Looouuuu…" Harry whined, his voice even rougher than usual.

"I said get away. Dirty, drunk boy." Louis sighed, turning himself over to cuddle into Harry’s chest. Harry laughed in his throat, snaking his arms around the boy. Louis’ skin was caramel against the stark white of their high-thread-count sheets and he was Harry’s absolute favourite.

"Looked like it was a good night." Louis mumbled against Harry’s collar bone. Louis could almost hear Harry’s frown so he continued.

"Love, you’re Harry Styles and I have a twitter account."

Harry made an agreeable noise and just shrugged. “It was alright.”

"Alright?!" Louis scoffed. "You were wearing a blonde curly wig, no wonder you got so drunk. You looked like a knob, sweetheart."

"Heeyyyyy. You’d still MMM my Bop." Harry objected, pouting dramatically. Louis just laughed, rich and scratchy against Harry’s neck.

"Nah, I was never really that sold on Hanson. You’re fresh out of luck, Styles."

Silence draped itself across the room for a few long moments as Harry watched the shimmering dust particles float across the shard of sunlight peaking through the blinds. He was almost ready to shut his eyes again when Louis spoke.

"So exactly how hungover are you?"

Harry laughed as delicately as his pounding head would allow. "On a scale of one to you after your twenty first… about a ten."

"Ouch." Louis yawned, finally uncurling himself from Harry’s body and stretching his arms above his head and flexing his toes until they cracked. He made a satisfied noise and leaned over to peck Harry’s chin, causing Harry’s dimples to appear.

"So what’s the plan?" Harry yawned, rolling himself onto his belly and burying his face into Louis’ armpit. He inhaled the undeniable scent of bed, boy and _Louis_.

"Well you’re going to brush your teeth while I go and make some tea then we’re going to get back in bed, watch Sunday Brunch and then I’m pretty sure you have a blowjob with my name on it." Louis grinned, one of his full grins that Harry loved where it reached the corners of his eyes and made them go all crinkled.

"Very presumptious." Harry rumbled even as he slid his way out of bed to head towards the bathroom.

* * *

 

Louis hadn’t been wrong, Harry definitely did have a blowjob with his name on it. A slow, delicate one where he’d used probably too much spit and the peaks of his cheekbones had flushed scarlet as he’d looked up at Louis through his eyelashes, every inch the Lolita. Louis had come quietly, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his right thumb just brushing Harry’s jaw. Harry had lanquidly kissed his way up Louis’ toned belly and nipped tenderly at his ‘78’ tattoo before pecking his forehead and sprawling out in all his gangly glory at Louis’ side. Louis was still convinced to this day that Harry was some kind of weird giraffe/octopus hybrid.

Louis tried to focus on Tim Lovejoy asking Benedict Cumberbatch nonsensical questions as they attempted to peel carrots on the TV. He was about to ask Harry if he could see what it was that attracted women to Sherlock Holmes when Harry’s phone buzzed on the bedside table. Harry jumped awake from his post-blowjob nap to reach for it, swiping the screen to read the message.

**From: BWinz**   
**Premiere today. Make sure you’re there dickhead.**

Harry groaned like a petulant child, throwing an arm over his face and launching his phone into the bundled up duvet at the end of the bed. Louis side-eyed him while flipping through the channels.

"Well?" He said, moving his baby blues away from the screen.

"Winston wants me to go to the film premiere tonight but-" Harry was crudely interrupted by Louis’ phone dinging to life on his bedside table. Louis frowned but reached for his phone.

**From: Ben W <3 **   
**And you as well, fancy pants. x**

"What is this weird Winston voodoo?" Louis whispered to his phone.

"He wants us both to go?" Harry whined again from under his arm.

"Not like you’re in any fit state…" Louis trailed off, checking the time then frowning back down at the text. Before he had chance to reply, both Harry and Louis’ phones went off together.

**From: Ben W <3 **   
**Sending cars for you. 5pm. No excuses. Else I’ll let Cordo direct the next video.**

Louis snorted, the corner of his mouth lifting in a reluctant smirk. Harry slid a foot down to kick his phone back up the bed to within his reach.

**From: BWinz  
Get your sorry arse out of bed, your wife’s got the deets.**

"He called you my wife." Harry stated.

"Bastard." Louis sighed affectionately as he slid his phone back onto the nightstand and made a grabby hand at Harry whilst keeping his attention on the TV. Ever-attentive Harry wriggled straight under Louis’ waiting arm before hooking their ankles together.

And that was how they found themselves as they were awoken by the shrill din of their buzzer. Louis blinked rapidly, immediately checking the time.

_**17:03** _

"Shit!” Louis hissed, shaking a sleeping Harry off his shoulder and diving out of bed and down the hall to answer the door in just his boxers. Harry stared at the open bedroom door in bewilderment, squinting sleepily as Louis reentered the room pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Drivers are here to take us to Ben’s film." Louis groaned, yawning for effect.

"Shit." Harry hissed, stumbling out of bed and heading for their walk-in wardrobe.

"No time to be a supermodel babe, grab the first thing you can find. We need to leave five minutes ago." Louis called after him as he picked up one of Harry’s black tshirts from the arm of the chaise longue. It was overly camp but it’d been a present from Niall and he’d insisted it go in their ‘dirty sex dungeon’, as he’d so lovingly put it. Harry emerged mere seconds later, head to toe in black, legs squeezed into impossibly tight jeans. Louis stared as he always did.

"Take a picture, it’ll last longer." Harry chuckled as he scraped up his keys, phone and high collared peacoat.

"You’re going in all black?" Louis laughed, eyes twinkly.

"Course I am." Harry frowned, tapping out a message on his phone.

"You’re like a living, breathing The 1975 song." Louis smiled, rounding the end of the bed to press a quick kiss to Harry’s jaw before reaching into the walk-in wardrobe to grab a checked, wool Harrington jacket that he was sure was Harry’s. He shrugged into it as they both made their way to the front door.

Harry had stopped to look in the mirror above their console table in the hall. He artfully dishevelled his curls as Louis squirted his neck and wrists with the almost-empty bottle of Bleu De Chanel that Harry kept in the drawer of the table for on-the-way-out emergencies.

"I like it when you wear my aftershave." Harry smiled through the mirror. Louis smirked back affectionately.

"Makes me feel like you’re with me even if we have to sit apart."

Harry lowered his eyes as he swallowed uncomfortably.

"Don’t be such a soft bastard. I’ll be a few seats away and I’ll send you kinky texts." Louis laughed, standing on tip toes to push back a wayward curl.

"Love you, Bear." Harry whispered as he turned back the cuffs of the jacket over Louis’ delicate hands.

"Love you too, Curly." Louis replied as he watched Harry carefully rolling the material. After folding Louis’ cuffs, Harry held both of Louis’ hands in his and just stood, looking at their entwined fingers.

"One day…" He mused, rubbing Louis’ ring finger between his own thumb and forefinger.

"Soon." Louis replied, the words rolling off his tongue like a mantra. "Shall we?" He smiled up at Harry.

"After you." Harry said, bowing and extending his arm to show Louis the way to the door. Louis huffed out a laugh as he reached for the door handle. Harry extended himself back to full height and flicked off the light before following Louis out to the waiting cars.


End file.
